


Expelled From The Nebula

by TSia



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, T'Sia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 11:56:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TSia/pseuds/TSia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a response to the challenge:  use the following phrase in a 100+ word log:  "...expelled from the nebula..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Expelled From The Nebula

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek - but I own a coffee machine.

A/N: Before I fiddle any more with this I'll just send it out. Beware, it's a bit sad.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Personal log, Ambassador Sarek  
Aboard the U.S.S. Newton

I visited the therapy sessions. I have shared my grief. I have meditated to fill the emptiness that the destruction of my world and the death of my bond mate have left me with. Yet the path of reason has not re-established my balance. Like the black hole that took the place of my home world, my mind holds its own kind of singularity. It distorts reality and pulls my thoughts to the event horizon, to the place the bond to my people and my mate has been for so long; a place where the future does not exist, where time stands still. This is where she is, where she will always be, where she belongs – by my side.

Those thoughts are illogical – to dwell in the past is illogical. Vulcans are rational – we accept what is. But then… Humans would say it all happened too fast for even a Vulcan mind to grasp, too sudden to absorb the horror that befell my world. My memory is clear, logic defines my path, yet I fail to go on and grasp the simple fact that nothing that was before will ever be again. Urged by an instinct that probably only a Human could understand, I cannot let go; I need to return, to see it with my own eyes.

The small science vessel reached the site of Vulcan's destruction this morning. I close my eyes and see it again. The screen shows the area ahead and with it 'The nebula' that fills the screen as we close in. The nebula is that area of dust, rock and rubble that surrounds the singularity in a low orbit. Contained in it are the last pieces of Vulcan – material the chaotic physical forces hurled into space during the planet's final minutes.

The ship comes to a halt and, as it hovers in safe distance, the eye can follow the movement of the nebula. Myriads of rocks, varying in all sizes, rotate silently in space. Occasionally my eye seems to catch a glimmer and, as unlikely as that may be, I wonder if it is a piece of the Llangon massif that could be seen from the panorama window in the living room of our town house. Crystalline elements imbedded in the rock reflect the glow of Eridani, like pieces of a broken mirror, which once stood watch over the red sea of sand that was the Shi'Khar valley.

The gentle movement of the nebula is the only visible sign that material is still in motion as it is slowly compressed into an accretion disc and then swallowed by the singularity that is still feasting on my home world. Logic scolds me for the afterthought. The singularity is a physical phenomenon; although created artificially, it does what it naturally does. It has no soul, no body. It cannot devour. It is what it is. 

Expelled from the nebula is a small rim of material in a stable orbit - likely destined to circle the singularity until it is no more. Carefully, the ship closes in, taking samples of rock, picking up debris and bodies floating in space. Later as I look at the lab tables holding the last of what was once my home world, I watch my hand pick up a broken holo frame, a shoe, a data disc, a piece of rock – all items showing traces of stress and destruction. But nothing, nothing of this does connect me to the place that once had been my home. Finally I realize that Vulcan is no more.

I do not look at the bodies. I know she is not here. She is gone, gone to go on living in my memories – and so does Vulcan.

I watch my hand let go of the last piece of red rock.

End of entry.


End file.
